The damning words of ‘Just get over it’ or ‘move on’ ring in my ears at time. It hurts. I tried over and over an over to ‘just get over it.’ Everything I tried was like kicking the walls of an old dry well, more dirt and crap fell on top of me. I sat at the bottom for a long time. In abject misery with no idea what was wrong with me or how to get out. In desperation, after seeing multiple medical doctors, I finally sought marriage counseling. I still wasn’t admitting that I was the one in the well. My first counselor gave us assignments and nothing was going right. The results he was expecting weren’t happening. I felt like a failure in counseling too. Who fails counseling? My counselor, however, understood the process that until I recognized that I had a problem, I couldn’t fix it. Until I chose healing, it wouldn’t happen. Tough few months. The game changer was when he asked me about my childhood. I cheerfully told him it was great, the answer I gave to everybody, especially myself. He called me on it and asked me to tell him an average day. He knew when he asked me that I didn’t have a clue. I finally confessed that I didn’t know anything about my childhood other than what I was told. I didn’t have my own memories of anything before high school. My mind hid my past from myself. I had to first recognize that maybe there was something to consider about healing me. Then I needed to choose the path to healing. My counselor kept reminding me that he was the coach, I had to run the course, do the work, grab the rope to get out of the well. Whatever the metaphor, I needed to chose to heal. I made the choice, much like a little kid choosing to be a doctor. There is a bunch of hard work between the time to decide to change and progress appears. The process is not to get me back to anywhere. I will never be what I was before trauma occurred. It doesn’t make sense to think I should be. The healing path brings me to a new place of strength, understanding, and healthy choices. I’m thankful I made the choice to take the hard road. Or grasped the rope to get me out of the well.